


Anything But

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [43]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Greg is flustered because he has a crush on Nick, M/M, Nick is completely unaware of this fact, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Before Greg was a CSI and he was close with Nick, do you think there was an awkward car ride when he asked Nick for a ride one day? Spoiler alert: Yes.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257824
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Anything But

They had exchanged numbers about a week after meeting each other, with the intend to call each other and hook up for a game night.

In the two months since that exchange, neither of them had actually _made_ that call, though the thought had crossed Greg’s mind quite a handful of times. 

When he finally dialed Nick’s number–which was hastily written down on a grease-stained napkin, he didn’t quite know what to expect, because he was calling a mere half hour before their shift, and not to play video games.

“Hello?” a tentative voice mumbled from the other end of the line. He sounded alert, of course he would, he was about to go to work, why was Greg afraid that Nick wouldn’t have been awake, or patient enough to talk to Greg? 

“Hey, Nick, it’s, uh, it’s Greg. Sanders,” Greg stifled a yawn, having just woken up, he was still trying to pull up his jeans with one hand, he nearly tripped onto his side as he stood on one leg. 

“Oh, hey, Greg. What’s, uh, what’s going on? You not coming to work today or…?”

“Yeah, I am, it’s just that uh, my car’s in the shop, and I don’t have enough spare change for a taxi…”

“You need a ride,” Nick deduced. 

“Yeah,” Greg inhaled, 

“What’s your address? I’ll be right there.”

* * *

Greg thought he was going to be ready by the time Nick made it to his apartment, which would have given them _just_ enough time to make it to the Crime Lab, and while they hadn’t gotten to know each other that well yet, Greg had a feeling that Nick didn’t like to be late, based on the “epitome of professionalism” air he seemed to pride himself on underneath his otherwise laid back exterior. 

But he needed more time, while yes, he was dressed, he wasn’t _ready,_ not ready enough to arrive with arguably the hottest CSI in the lab–although, Warrick came very close to holding that spot, but Greg had a weakness for accents–he was scrambling around his messy apartment, trying to locate a bottle of perfume that he would explain was left by a one-night stand. 

Well, it was, but he kept it around for such an occasion, in which he would need to lure in a hottie in the same way the scent had lured himself.

He was interrupted in his scrambling search by a knock at the door–he located the bottle, shouted a quick “come in!” before he quickly spritzed himself, and Nick opened the door. 

“Hey, G. What up, you ready?” 

His hands were balled into fists, he crossed his arms, huffed out his chest. _Great going, Sanders, he can tell you’re not ready, you’re gonna make both of you late, He’s gonna be upset and won’t talk to you or give you rides ever again–_

“Sweet digs,” Nick commented, nodding his head and stepping through the threshold. 

“Really? I mean, uh, thanks! I just gotta grab a lunch–” Greg stuttered, rushing towards the refrigerator, as he tripped over the discarded outfit options he cycled through just minutes before, though as he opened the door to his fridge, he just as quickly closed it, “Actually, no, I’m gonna buy you lunch, for helping me out. Speaking of which, oh my god, we’re gonna be late, I’m _so sorry–”_

“Relax, Sanders. Grissom’s probably not even ready to hand out assignments anyway, we got time, we don’t need to rush.” 

Greg took a deep breath and nodded as they walked out of his apartment into the hall.

“You wearing perfume or somethin’?” Nick asked as they descended the stairs. 

“Oh, yeah, had a hot date for dinner–she couldn’t, uh, give me a ride, I gave her the cab fare–” Greg began to mumble, though Nick must have caught onto his nervousness in telling his little fib, versus the normal bravado in which he discusses his dates, because he cut Greg off.

“It’s smells good, man, she must have been something, huh?” 

“Yeah. She sure was,” Greg sighed as they made it to Nick’s car, and he was thankful for the change of scenery, that maybe it would ease his nerves– _why_ was he _so freaking nervous_ about getting a ride from Nick Stokes?–but as he settled into the passenger’s seat, he found things were still awkward, as he naturally assumed a very _casual_ position in the car, ready for the car to move, but instead of moving, Nick cleared his throat. 

He looked up at the man, confused as to what he did to earn such a gesture, when Nick nodded to the seat belt. 

_Greg, you dumb ass._

Greg quickly put the belt on, and sat up straight even though Nick didn’t seem as repulsed by his posture, so much as his apparent lack of regard for safety, and they embarked on a fifteen minute car ride to the Crime Lab…

Filled with an uncharacteristically stark silence, which Nick made note of ten minutes into the ride. 

“You’re awfully quiet there, Greg.” 

“Oh, well, I j-just woke up, is all. Just gotta get some coffee in me and I’ll be the Chatty Cathy I normally am–no offense to Catherine, you know, she’s…” Greg’s speech slowed as he noticed Nick didn’t seem to respond to what he thought was his funny dialogue. “I’ll shut up now…”

“Hm? Nah, you’re cool, man, keep talking, I’m just keeping my eyes on the road, I’m listening to ya.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

Another minute passed before Greg attempted to speak again. 

“Nice car,” he hiccuped, quickly cupping a hand to his mouth.

“Greg, be straight with me–”

_I wanna be anything but…_

“–Are you hungover, bro?”

“What? No!” Greg protested with a wild chuckle. 

“Cause it’s okay if you are, I’ve had my fair share, man, in fact, if I wasn’t the DD when I met up with some college friends last week, I would have been right in the same boat–”

“Okay, maybe a little,” Greg lied, figured his irrational, erratic behavior would be better explained with a hangover than…whatever was actually the cause.

In truth, he had a feeling it had something to do with Nick’s leather jacket, with the latex gloves poking out of the corner of the pocket.

The conversation ended there, after a “haha, my little brother got wasted last night”-esque laugh from Nick, and thankfully, they arrived at the lab just a minute later. Greg muttered a sheepish “thanks” and they parted, though Greg’s gaze lingered on Nick’s behind as he sauntered into the locker room, making a drinking gesture to Warrick, who laughed. 

Greg was about to turn away when Nick then pivoted, flashing a genuine smile to the younger man, and a wink. 


End file.
